It was only last week that I complained to Kymbo that our pile of old envelopes for shopping lists and et-ceteras was almost gone. Last night, I scrawled a hasty message on the final envelope.
This was a bizarre feeling – we’ve had a never ending supply of envelopes for 5 years or more, yet last night I used the last one.
This morning, I discovered what had happened to our supply. The Hardman. But not in the way you would expect.
Since his birth, we’ve done very little (read: none) of our filing. I opened up the cupboard that hides our intray, and almost drowned under the outpouring of paper. I spent the next hour sorting through this mess, and discovered all our missing envelopes. 12 months of every letter that wasn’t a bill was sitting in or around the intray. So I got to opening them all, and sorting. I now have 4 huge piles of paper on the red desk, which will need to be sorted at some stage, but probably not today.
I also have got my envelopes back. Hundreds of happy used envelopes, just waiting to receive our next shopping list, garden idea, or hazy-eyed early morning love-letter.